Wrestling the Teacher
by ChelleLew
Summary: When Roman asks Dean to fill in for him at a parent-teacher conference, Dean meets a woman who intrigues him. She is completely different from his usual type. What follows is a comedy of errors as Dean wrestles with his attempts to attract her attention. Will he be successful?
1. Parent Conference

_I don't know or own the characters of Dean Ambrose or Roman Reigns. No disrespect is intended toward either.  
This is a work of pure fiction, written purely for entertainment purposes. _

* * *

"Can you explain this to me again? How is it that **_you_** have a parent-teacher conference for **_your_** daughter and **_I_** end up walking into an elementary school?" Dark shades and a backwards ball cap may have masked the man's signature features, but his distinctive voice and definitive swagger set his six foot four inch frame apart from the other men in the area. The pursing of his lips alerted anyone who glanced his way that this was _not_ where he wanted to be. "So tell me again, why am I here?" His big black boots clamored along the sidewalk as he approached the front of the brick building. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Great guy, brothers, got it. What room am I looking for?" He shook his head as he entered the bright blue doors of the elementary school. Walking down the hallway he muttered to himself, "I still don't see how **_I_** ended up letting myself end up here. I hated school when I was a student, why the hell am I coming back here as a substitute for someone else's parent-teacher conference? I don't even have a kid… Thank God." His long stride ate up the distance rapidly as he read the room numbers. "Oh, hell. Here it is." Taking a deep breath, he walked into the room. "Hi. I'm here for Anna Reign's conference."

Sitting at a long table in the back of the room was a woman with short brown hair and a pair of glasses that had slid to the end of her nose. When he announced his presence, she visibly jumped before pushing the glasses higher up the bridge of her nose with her index finger. Raising her head to look at him, he was struck by how friendly her eyes appeared. He couldn't decide if they were brown or if they were green. They weren't the warm brown of Rollin's that he was sure of. He pulled out the chair across from her and stepped over the back of it to sit down. By his way of thinking, the chair was short and he was tall enough so it made perfect sense… right up until he saw her mouth tighten in disapproval. She dropped her gaze and moved some papers around. He rubbed his hand across the week's worth of stubble that was growing on his face. _After a week, is it still stubble or is it a short beard?_ The thought randomly flitted through his head.

"Good Morning. May I ask, who are you?" Her voice appeared friendly enough, but there was an edge to it. He wasn't sure whether to be offended or happy for Roman's sake that his daughter was in the care of someone that took security so seriously.

"Anna's parents can't make it to the conference and I was asked to come on their behalf. If you check the file you will see that it is okay. You can even call her father and he will tell you that he wants this meeting to take place.

The man slid his sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing his intense blue eyes. "I think I'll do just that." The teacher said as she pulled out her phone. Minutes later she had confirmation from Anna's father that his best friend was standing-in for him at the conference and provided a physical description of the man who was currently sitting in her classroom. "My apologies, sir. I just needed to"

He held up both of his hand. "Don't apologize for keeping Anna safe. I am impressed." Extending one hand across the table, he introduced himself. "Dean Ambrose."

"Miss Goteround." She looked him in the face and shook his hand.

Dean struggled to keep from laughing as he shook her hand. "Very nice to meet you, Ms. Gott-er-round." He cleared his throat and dropped his hands into his lap as he rocked the chair back on two legs. "How is my niece doing in school?"

Rolling her eyes the teacher bit her bottom lip as she thought, "It's going to be one of _those_ conferences. Like I haven't had my name taken apart like _that_ before. Immature little twit." Smiling outwardly at the man, she said "We keep chairs on all four legs in the classroom. It's a safety thing. I know you feel that your profession makes you above such rules, but you are a role model and not an exception." She pulled out Anna's report card as Dean's mouth hung open. "So here is how Anna is doing academically." The teacher went on to compliment the little girl and give a couple of suggestions on things that her parents could have her practice at home. She gave Dean a note that had important upcoming dates and insisted several times that he not forget to give it to them. Then she walked him to the door. "Make sure you give them those dates and her report card. If they have any questions they can call or e-mail. I will be happy to go over the information with them personally."

"I got it." he groused. Pulling his sunglasses back down to cover his eyes, his long strides carried him quickly out of the school. Once outside, he called Roman. "What is up with that teacher?"

"What did you do?" Roman asked. "She is awesome!"

Dean shook his head. "She hated me. She doesn't trust me. She thinks I'm going to forget to give you Anna's report card and this paper with dates. She thinks I'm an idiot."

Roman laughed. "Think of how many iPads and chargers and"

"Oh just shut up." Dean muttered. "She doesn't know about that stuff."

Roman got quiet. "Dean… Dean… DEAN!"

"What?"

"Don't do it, man. Don't you dare. This is my kid's teacher. Leave her alone. I mean it. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT go after this woman. She is OFF LIMITS."


	2. Bumping into Her

Dean sat in the school parking lot grumbling to himself after he threw his phone into the passenger seat of his rental car. "Who does Roman think he is? Telling me that some woman is off limits. Puh-lease. I am a grown-ass man. If I want to ask a woman out, I will ask a woman out. Tell me I can't ask a woman out…" He gripped the steering wheel and stared at the brick building. "If I want to sit in the parking lot like a freaking stalker I'll do that, too." He shook his head and put the key in the ignition. "You'd think by now I'd know to listen to Roman. Not that I will ever admit that to him." Just as his fingers started to flex, **_she_** walked out of the building. Dean watched as she walked down the sidewalk and turned the opposite direction to go to the faculty parking lot. "Oh, my. That has to be a sign. Right?"

Starting the car and pulling out of the space slowly, he let the car almost drift through the lot. He paused at the stop sign before pulling out onto the road. He accelerated slowly, looking for the vehicle that held the woman that was now occupying his mind. He was looking around so much that he failed to realize that the stoplight ahead had changed color and the cars in front of him were stopping. His car continued to roll forward until it tapped the bumper of the sedan just ahead of him that had come to a stand-still. Dean let out a string of curses for duel reasons. He was ticked he was at-fault in a fender-bender and he was frustrated that the teacher-woman had slipped through his fingers. Slamming the gearshift into park, he threw open the driver's side door and stalked up to the sedan.

"Look, I am sorry I bumped into you. It's totally my fault. I don't see much damage so I'll be happy to pay for anything that a reputable mechanic says needs to be fixed." He was talking quickly and had yet to look at the now-opening driver's door until one sensible black heel and delectable ankle touched the road. His eyes took in the sweeping houndstooth print skirt as _she_ exited the vehicle.

"I'm glad to hear you've accepted responsibility, Mr. Good." The woman that had captivated his thoughts was standing in front of him, speaking matter-of-factly. She was obviously not impressed that he had rear-ended her. She tried to move past him only to be blocked at every attempt. "If you are trying to be cute, this isn't working. I'd like to see the rear of my car if you don't mind." Dean sighed and stepped to the side. He watched as she inspected her car. "I would concur, the damage seems minor. There's no need to involve insurance companies. How did you not notice the red light and the stopped cars?" She held up her hand. "Never mind. Let's just exchange information so we can get on our way."

Dean jumped at the chance. "I am really sorry. Can I make it up to you? Get you lunch? I know you must have a short lunch break between conferences."

She leveled him with her best teacher-glare. "Most of my lunch break is being used right now, with you. My next conference is in… twenty-five minutes. I had enough time to get to the post office, pick up lunch and get back to school. Now I have time to get to the post office to mail my bills and get back to school. C'est la vie." After handing each other pieces of paper with names, addresses, e-mails, and phone numbers, Dean watched as the teacher got back into her sedan and pulled away.

Feeling guilty about the accident and making her miss her lunch, he got into his car and headed along the road careful not to hit anyone else. He pulled into the parking lot of a local restaurant and turned off his car as his phone began to ring. "Hey, Roman."

"Don't you 'Hey, Roman' me. I told you to leave her the hell alone. How did you end up hitting her at a traffic light? What the hell happened?" Roman roared.

"How do you know? Did she call you? What did she say?"

"No, she didn't call me! Why would she call me, you moron! I was watching you on the traffic cameras! I KNEW you were going to do something stupid. I just didn't think it was going to be this stupid! Really, Dean? Rear-ending her at a traffic light?" Roman was obviously angry. "Did you even think about how this is going to affect Anna?"

"Affect Anna? Do you really think her teacher will take it out on her? I don't think she's that kind of woman. Really, I don't. Look, I'll fix it. I promise." Dean's voice suddenly picked up.

"No, Dean. No. Leave it alone. Do not go near her again. Promise me you will leave her alone. I mean it. Promise me." Roman's voice was loaded with warning.

"No can do, bud. I have to fix this." Dean hung up and headed into the restaurant to order his obsession a take-out lunch that he could deliver to her at school.


	3. Lunch

An hour and a half after he had made his first trek into the elementary school, Dean Ambrose was again walking through the bright blue front doors of the brick building. His big black boots ate up the hallway at a fast pace. His backwards ball cap still restrained most of his blonde curls. His dark shades were resting on top of the ball cap. This time he carried a large brown bag in one hand and an extra-large Styrofoam cup in the other. Reaching the classroom easily, he walked in without knocking. "Ms. Got-ter-round, I need to apologize for making you miss your lunch." The teacher was once again seated at her back table with her papers in neat piles. In front of her sat a tall, slim woman with straight blonde hair that reached her shoulders. Both women froze and stared at him. "Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you had company."

"Sir, this is parent-teacher conference day. If you would be so kind as to knock before rushing into a room…" she shook her head as if it were a lost cause. Then she muttered, "And my name is Goteround."

"Sorry, sorry. I'll just sit your lunch over here." He sat the food on a student's desk. "So sorry to interrupt." He turned and walked out of the classroom, stopping to lean against the wall outside the door. Rubbing his right hand against his collar bone anxiously he muttered, "I am so freaking stupid! Why is it I am doing everything wrong with her? EVERYTHING! I cannot catch a break!" He smacked his head against the wall before heading out of the school.

~! #$%~! #$%

"Was that your boyfriend?" the parent asked.

Gripping the papers in her hand a little more tightly, she said "No, no he's not my boyfriend. And I'd rather not discuss my personal life if that's okay with you." She returned the conference to talking about the adorable little girl, Emily, and what a bright future she had if she continued to study. Ms. Goteround cautiously asked the mother to make sure the mother kept an eye on how much wrestling the little girl watched since she had been trying a few moves on the boys at recess. "We can't have the children putting each other in figure-four leglocks, cross-face chicken wings, or attempting something called a…. 'Dirty Deed' or a 'Curb Stomp'. Someone is going to get hurt. She is such a sweet little girl, I'd hate to see her suspended for this kind of playful behavior."

The mother looked at her in disbelief. "You have Roman Reign's daughter in your class. Dean Ambrose just brought you lunch. And you want to talk about **my daughter** practicing her wrestling moves? You should be _encouraging_ her, not holding her back!" She huffed and stormed out of the room.

Sighing, she gathered the papers she had been in the midst of sharing with Emily's mother and set them in a neat pile. "At least I have a minute to see if Mr. Ambrose has good taste in food. I am starving." she murmured to herself as she whisked the bag and drink back to her desk. Time was of the essence since her next conference was due to arrive in five minutes' time. "A salad?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe female wrestlers eat rabbit food. I don't know. I have to give him credit for trying." She sat at her desk and picked out the pieces of chicken. "It's the thought that counts. Better than not having any lunch at all." She took a couple of long swigs from the drink. "Water? Rabbit food and water?" She shook her head. "Keep telling yourself that it was the thought. It was the thought. The man tried to do something nice… After rear-ending your car."

* * *

After the long, tedious day of conferences ended, all Machelle Goteround wanted to do was go home and relax in a steaming bubble bath with a tall glass of wine. No, make that a bottle of beer. Better yet, a snifter of brandy. Nah, a frozen margarita. Even better, a tray with all four of the drinks sitting beside the steaming hot bubble bath would make her night absolute _perfection_. A blissfully happy smile grew on her face as she headed across the parking lot and headed for her car. All she had to do was make the 20 minute drive to her house and she could get to work on her fantasy. Less than forty minutes and she would be in heaven. All would be well in the world. Nothing could possibly ruin this…

"Ms. Got-ter-round! Ms. Got-ter-round!"


	4. Parking Lot

Dean left the school building, kicking the sidewalk as he headed to his car. "How could I screw up bringing her lunch? That wasn't hard. Grab it, drop it off, and leave. What could possibly go wrong? Today – everything!" He leaned his head against the car. "I can't believe this!"

Unable to think of anything else to help work out his frustrations, Dean headed to a nearby gym. For hours he lifted weights, ran on the treadmill, rode stationary bikes, jumped rope, and sparred with punching bags. Finally hot, sweaty, and worn out, an idea dawned on him. "She's got to be tired and ready to drop from dealing with parents all day. I can offer to take her out to eat or at least pick her up dinner! That way I can take her car for an estimate at the same time! Genius!" he exclaimed and clapped his hands. He grabbed his few belongings and dashed to his car. Checking the time he figured that conferences should be ending soon. "I might just make it." he thought, dabbing the sweat from his brow with a small towel. He grimaced. "Maybe I should have run through the shower." Stopping in front of the school, he saw the familiar houndstooth skirt headed across the parking lot. "Ms. Got-ter-round! Ms. Got-ter-round! Just a second! I need to talk to you!" He sprinted across the school lawn to catch up with her.

The weary teacher had just opened the door of her car when the shout rung out across the front of the school. She tossed her purse across the front seat with a grimace and thought, "Maybe I can pretend I don't hear anything. I can get in and shut the door before he gets over here." She managed to get her right foot in the car before the sweaty body collided with her hood.

"I am so glad I caught up with you. Listen, I know I have made an ass out of myself today. I swear I am usually not this offensive and socially awkward. Well, honestly, I really am. But I can improve. Anyway, I want to make it up to you. I was thinking, you have probably had an exhausting and aggravating day. Let me take you out to dinner." She rolled her eyes and snorted softly as she sat in the driver's seat at the thought of another salad. He shoved off the front of her car and raced to catch ahold of the door before she could close it. Getting between the door and the frame of the car, Dean crouched down and held on to the edge of her car. His blue eyes were open wide. His hair was plastered to his forehead. His skin still shimmered, courtesy of the sweat from his workout. She watched as he swallowed hard. "Yeah, I'm screwing this up, too. I just want a chance. A chance to show you that I'm not the jackass I've appeared to be today."

The teacher put one hand on the steering wheel as she turned her upper body to face the man at her side with a look of bewilderment. Keeping her left hand fisted on her thigh she held her breath and stared at him for several seconds. She seemed to be searching his eyes for something. Finally she asked, "Why me? What is it about me that you are so… so hung up on?" Dean blinked slowly and swallowed hard. "You know what? I am tired and I'm ready to just go home tonight." The hand that had been resting on the steering wheel now slid to the key in the ignition. "I can't handle thinking about this right now." she muttered. "And certainly not on rabbit food and water."

Dean grabbed the steering wheel. "Please. I'll get take out, whatever you want. There's something about you makes me want…"

She cut her eyes back at him as he stopped talking. "What?"

"I don't know. There is something that makes me want to make sure you know I'm not an ass. I want you to know me." He ran his other hand through his hair as he stood up. "It's more than Roman telling me you are off-limits because you are Anna's teacher. I know that."

Machelle leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes. Dean couldn't tell what was going through her mind at that point. A tired sigh escaped her slightly parted lips. Dean couldn't figure out what the foreign feeling swirling around his gut was but it wasn't the typical arousal he was used to. Although that was present, this was different, this was more like… protective? Like he wanted to take care of her and hold her as she recovered from her long and stressful day – Where did that come from? That was unlike Dean Ambrose. As Dean was recognizing these thoughts that were tumbling through his mind, he realized that her eyes were opening. He leaned over and rested his forearm on the roof of her car. Laying his head on his arm, he looked into her eyes. "Ms. Goteround, I promise you that I only want to share a meal with you. You asked what it is about you. Honestly, I don't know. There was something about you in the conference that got to me. I haven't reflected on it a whole lot, I've been too busy screwing everything else up. So I would like to take some time to get to know you a little better. That's all."

Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, she looked up at his sincere, intense blue eyes. "You make it sound so tempting." she whispered.

"Say yes. I promise you I won't screw this one up."


	5. Evening

Machelle wondered what she was thinking. She peeked out her window, looking at her car parked to one side of her driveway. She always parked in the middle because she lived alone and had few visitors. Tonight there was a second car beside hers and the man sitting inside it seemed to be talking to himself. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, his biceps seemed to be flexing and his face appeared to be filled with tension. Was he as nervous as she felt? She bit the knuckle of her index finger. What did Dean Ambrose have to be nervous about? Women chased after him. He could have any woman, a different woman any and every night he wanted. His nerves shouldn't be acting up, not like hers. She dropped the curtain and headed for the back of the house. She got as far as the bathroom mirror and looked at her reflection. Mousey brown hair that had had some semblance of style this morning was now more wind-blown and frizzy, not even appearing to have seen a brush today. Her brownish-hazel eyes looked tired and almost swollen with their need for sleep. Her cheeks were paler than usual. "I need to get outside. If I had worked in the flowerbeds the way I had planned then maybe I wouldn't be as pale as a ghost." she murmured with a sigh. "Who am I kidding? I am no match for the divas and women he sees on a daily basis. Why even try?" She pushed her glasses back up her nose as she finally heard the knock at her door. "The men around here don't even want to date me. Why would **Dean Ambrose**? Get your head out of the clouds."

Opening the door, Machelle was greeted by a stack of boxes and bags. Stepping to the side, she grabbed one wrist she and guided him through the doorway. "What have you done?" she asked, disbelief filling her voice.

Dean paused his progression level with her eyes. "I didn't know what you would want to eat, except not what I got for lunch." Her cheeks pinked at the memory of her earlier comment. "I promised not to screw this up. No salad. No water. All real food. And plenty of it because I am hungry so I wanted to make sure I didn't eat too much and leave nothing for you."

"Dean, I didn't mean to"

"Don't. Don't apologize. I have screwed things up so badly. Let's just start over… After you show me where the table is."

Machelle shut her front door and led the way to her dining room table. "Oh, crap! Give me a second." She scooped up papers to grade, half-written lesson plans and assorted parts of activities she was trying out at home. She dumped everything at the other end of the table in one large pile. "There's a spot right in front of you." As Dean sat the stack down, she continued moving and piling her school things far away from them. She raced to the kitchen for a rag to clean off the table.

Dean came in right behind her, catching her by the elbows. "Hey, calm down. Now you seem more on-edge than me." Huge eyes looked up into his. He swallowed hard. "Ms. Goteround…"

"Machelle." she whispered.

"Oh hell. Machelle." He pulled her hard against his chest. "Shoulda left it at your last name. Just the hot teacher." He drew a deep breath to hold on to his control but got her scent instead. He ran his fingers through her hair and cupped the back of her head. "Those eyes, those glasses… The glasses frame your eyes and your eyes show so much. When you are happy, pissed, interested, and so help me when you are disappointed. I want to see them when you are… Yeah, when you are. With me." With the hand cupping her head, he pulled her back and looked into her face. "Machelle, oh Machelle. You wanted to know what it was about you. It's you. You are smart and beautiful and caring." She snorted. "You know your students. Looking that table, it's obvious you spend your time on their lessons. Listening to you at the conference, it was comforting to know that you weren't going to take my word for who I was. You are protective of your students. I bet that protective streak goes even deeper than the kids and you have no idea how appealing I find that." This intake of air caused the full length of their bodies to touch. "Every exchange we have had today has drawn me to you."

Machelle whispered, "I'm not beautiful. Not at all. I'm mousey and plain."

His eyes hardened and his grip tightened. "Don't say that. You are beautiful." He pulled her flush against him. Drawing yet another steadying breath, he bent and whispered against her cheek, "I promised not to screw up tonight. So we are going to go sit at the table and eat dinner. We are going to talk about our lives and get to know each other. And we are going to make plans to see each other again." Dean easily read the confusion in her eyes. His mouth slid across hers. He didn't kiss her. He spoke against her lips, every word tantalizing them both. "Knowing I will see you again, that we are on the same page is the only way that I can leave tonight and not show you **exactly** how beautiful I think you are. In… Extreme… Detail." Dean took the rag from her hand and headed for the table. Machelle grabbed the edge of the counter and panted softly. _What do you say to_ _ **that**_ _? Is there a response?_ Because she had none.

Smoothing her trembling hands down her front and her skirt, she joined Dean at the dining room table with plates and silverware. They would make it through dinner in a socially acceptable manner. They would abide by the boundaries he set, keeping their hands to themselves. They would get to know each other. And, as soon as he left, she would head for her bathtub to relax with her drink. Maybe she would make a pitstop in her bedroom to visit with b.o.b first…


	6. Nourishment

Machelle watched in amazement as Dean finished yet another helping of grilled chicken breast. He looked towards the remaining filet mignon so she pushed it towards him. He pointed at her with the prongs of his fork. "Don't say a word. I have wonderful metabolism and an excellent work out routine."

"I'm sure you need to eat lots of protein to keep up that muscle-tone." She smiled across the table at him. "There's still no need to threaten me with a fork or talk with your mouth full of chewed up chicken."

He swallowed the food. "Did I mention how much I like how you call me on shit like that?" Machelle rolled her eyes. He pointed his fork at her again. "That is annoying though. No rolling your eyes at me." She put her finger on the end of his fork and moved it away before rolling her eyes again drawing a laugh from Dean. "Smartass."

"Yes, there's more to me than being a teacher." She finished off her mashed potatoes and sat back, stuffed.

Dean made short work of the steak. Looking at the remaining food, he snagged her hand. "You have conferences again tomorrow?" She nodded. "How about we put this in the refrigerator to have tomorrow for our second date? Since we both like the Fast and Furious movies, we can watch one of them and have a quiet night in. No one bothering us…" His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand. She nodded slowly. "If you want something else for our second date all you have to do is say so. I will pick you up and take you anywhere you want to go."

Machelle opened her mouth but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and said softly, "That sounds perfect. I'll be looking forward to it… All day." Dean wiggled in his chair.

It was his turn to clear his throat. "You need to get some sleep. You have a long day filled with conferences that you need to be ready for. I'd better let you get ready… for… bed." His gaze dropped to her lips as his nostrils flared. Machelle noticed his breathing rate pick up in his chest. He squeezed her hand and pushed away from the table. He snatched the nearest leftover food and almost ran for the kitchen. Machelle followed at a slower speed, passing him as he went back to grab more food. They worked in silence as they stowed the leftovers in the refrigerator and threw the take-out containers into the trash. Once the counters and the table were wiped down, Dean didn't have any more excuses to delay leaving.

Holding her hand he walked to the front door. He backed her against the wall beside the door and wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. "You are so, so beautiful." he whispered as he ducked his head to capture her mouth with his. Her hands fisted at his hips. His knee began to creep between hers. The material of her skirt was stretched to the maximum, bringing Dean to his senses. Resting his forehead against hers, he murmured. "Until tomorrow. Tomorrow. By God, tomorrow, woman. I'm giving you until tomorrow…" He quickly kissed her again as he jerked the door open and stalked out of the house. Machelle closed it with a quiet click behind him. Her hand caressed the door as her forehead pressed against it.

"Dammit, Dean. You could've…" she pushed off and walked to her front window but was careful not to move the curtains. "I may realize that I am desperate but there's no need for him to know just how easy it would be." she reasoned with herself.

* * *

Dean stomped to his car and slammed himself into the driver's seat. He dropped the keys into the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel. "You promised not to screw this up, Dean. You promised her tonight. She is a classy woman. She is Anna's teacher. Roman would kill you. Literally. He would have your ass. He would take your ass out, kill you Samoan-style, and make sure the alligators eat whatever is left. No one would know." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling of the car. He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and held it. Going back in that house, tonight or tomorrow, would be viewed as a betrayal by his friend and brother. But Machelle, Machelle… There was something about her that just spoke to him. "I don't believe in love at first sight. Hell, I wasn't sure I believed in love. But this woman, _this woman_ … There is something about her that makes me feel like leaving is the wrong thing to do."

* * *

Machelle had gone into her bathroom and prepared her serene scene. There were candles waiting to be lit around the room. Bubble bath was perched on the ledge next to the spigot. She fixed a tray of drinks and had them sitting on the closed lid of the throne. "Wine, brandy, beer, and a frozen margarita. I look like a lush!" She smiled to herself and headed for her bedroom. She stripped, dropping her clothes in the correct hampers according to color. "I just need to take the edge off. I need…"

She picked up her favorite toy and laid back on her bed. "Just take the edge…" she murmured as she opened her thighs. She slid the index and ring finger of her left hand between her legs, finding her clit easily. "Oh my." She rocked a tiny bit. Flicking her own clit, she bit her bottom lip. She tapped her center with her middle finger and she began to shake. "Oh…" She didn't realize she was _that_ close. Taking b.o.b. in her right hand, she turned it on and slid it into place slowly. Her body arched up off the bed, trembling uncontrollably. "Oh… Oh…" She moved her battery-operated friend as she searched for what was _soclose_. "Oh, Dean!"

"Yes?" Machelle dropped to the bed and began to back away from the open bedroom door. Dean grasped her by her knees and held her in place. "Don't f… Don't move. Just…" His chest was heaving. His eyes were glassy. His nostrils were flared wide. The muscles in his jaw were clenched. His pectoral muscles were flexing. _Where was his shirt?_ The veins in his forehead and neck were standing out so far. _Oh my_. "If you wanted this, all you had to do…" He pulled her to the edge of the bed and took hold of her toy. Gently, slowly, he began to manipulate it with one hand. "I would have stayed. I would have been here." He thrust the toy harder. "No toy necessary." He bent over and sucked on her nipple, nipping at the tip before capturing the entire breast in his mouth. She arched off the bed again, grasping the back of his head to hold him in place as she cried out his name again. "Real thing. Real thing. It's the real thing." Dean was saying. The toy was gone. Machelle was spinning. Dean was lying in the middle of her bed, holding her warm wet center directly over his stiff rod so the tip was just touching her entrance. She planted her hands on his shoulders for balance. He lowered her slowly, filling her more than the toy could ever dream of. He was warm and pulsating, full of life and passion. Her head rolled back. Her hands grasped his wrists. Simply being filled by him was enough to send her over… Dean cursed and rolled. He held on under her knees, pistoning in and out of her body as if he couldn't control his actions – because he couldn't. From the time he had seen her on her bed until now he was a goner. Dean Ambrose was done. When she screamed his name in his ear he gurgled hers. Then he collapsed on top of her.


	7. Bubble Bath Time

**Ah, the conclusion! Yes, this is just a short story. A brief tale. It has accomplished exactly what it was supposed to so... I hope you enjoyed it! :)**

* * *

"What were you thinking you were going to do after you pretended to have sex with me?" Dean muttered against her neck a little while later.

Running her fingers through his hair, she chuckled. "The bathroom is all set up for my bubble bath. I doubt very seriously that is something you are interested in."

Dean pulled back to look at Machelle. "By myself? No way. With you?" He slithered backwards, pulling her off the bed and scooping her into his arms. "This is going to be fun." He paused in the doorway of the bathroom. "A woman after my own heart." She followed the direction of his gaze and then tucked her face against his neck. "You will share, won't you?" he asked with a laugh. "Or was all of that for you?" He let her slide to her feet, dump in the bubble bath, and adjust the water temperature. While she was bent over, he rubbed his re-hardening cock against her rear. "Machelle? Is that all for you or will you share?"

She held on to the side of the tub and pressed back against him. "Mmmmm."

"Really wasn't an answer." he chuckled as he stepped closer.

She stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'll think about sharing." His large hands palmed her breasts.

"Get in the tub." he growled. She lifted one leg to step in. He held on to her waist to keep her steady. Once she was standing in the water, he stepped in behind her. They sat down slowly, him behind her with Machelle fitting carefully against his thighs. Dean grabbed the melting margarita. "Sip." he ordered. She rubbed his legs as she drank from the cup he tilted to her lips. She drank what she could but some ran down her neck. "Oh, no. I guess I need to clean that up." Dean ran his tongue along her neck as he reached for another glass. "I didn't take you for a brandy drinker."

Machelle slid in the bubbly water, rocking against him. "Dean…" He held the glass to her mouth again. She sipped the brandy, swirled it in her mouth, and leaned forward to turn off the still-running water. Hearing Dean sit that glass on the floor, Machelle took the opportunity to turn and face him. He raised an eyebrow and paused as he had been reaching for another drink. Machelle mimicked his eyebrow raise as she let the brandy roll from her mouth and slide down her chin.

"You are toying with fire." he warned.

She climbed onto his lap. His tongue snaked out to tickle her neck. She wrapped her hand around his poker-stiff rod and squeezed tightly. Turning her head to the side, she caught his ear between her teeth and bit down. On a near silent whisper she taunted, "Burn me."

Dean's long fingers flexed against her hips. "Oh, darlin'. Tempting, tempting, but I have more control the second time around." He tucked her knees on both sides of his thighs, keeping her wide open for his assault. Pulling both of her hands behind her back, he captured them with one hand and held them against her ass. This forced her to throw her chest forward, sending her breasts directly in line with his waiting mouth. His nimble fingers danced across her belly on a path southward. "You wanted to get burned. I want to watch you go up in flames." He drove his ring finger and middle finger into her waiting channel as he leaned forward to capture one turgid peak in his mouth. Machelle strained to pull her arms free, rocking with the sensations the duel attention brought. She begged for release. Dean wiggled the fingers inside her body making her rock even harder. Finally, _finally_ , the soap suds worked their magic. The slickness of the bubble bath created a lack of friction between Dean's hand and Machelle's wrist to the point that she was able to pull her hands free and brace one on the bottom of the tub. With the other, she grasped Dean's pulsating and needy cock in her hand. Mindless of his fingers, she positioned him where she wanted and sat down. He'd only gotten his hand to her clit when he bottomed out inside her. He stroked her once and felt her convulse, screaming his name. Dean grabbed her shoulders and took over, thrusting with abandon.

* * *

"So that's a bubble bath?" Dean said as they washed each other in the shower. "I think I like them."

Machelle grinned as she washed his back. "So I taught you something new?"

Dean turned and kissed her softly. "You have no idea." He loved the blush that was creeping up her face. "I can tell you more tomorrow on our date."

Machelle froze and smacked his chest. "How did you get in my house anyway?"

"Um, I, um, well… I wasn't sure if I would actually be able to stay away ALL night. I thought I might come back and check on you, maybe sleep on your couch after I checked out of my hotel and grabbed my stuff…" He did look sheepish, at least.

"So you PLANNED AHEAD? You did what, left a window open?" Machelle's eyes narrowed.

"See, I can tell by your eyes that you are angry right now, and you should be. I didn't plan on sleeping with you tonight, I swear." He held his hand up beside his head. "I just didn't think I could be that far away from you."

"Which window?"

"Machelle…"

"Which window?" she repeated.

"The one in the spare room." he muttered.

"That's over my crawl-space hole and has a bunch of crap in front of it! How did you reach it from outside? And how did I not hear you inside?" Machelle held on to his elbows now.

"I moved a few boxes when I excused myself to use your bathroom. That's when I unlocked the window. And I chose that one because no one would break in that way. You were still safe." He kissed her forehead. "I wanted to watch over you, not leave you vulnerable to a break-in."

"So you scaled my house?"

"You need to start watching my matches, sweetheart." He pulled her close for a kiss. "Tell you what, we'll watch a couple tomorrow before Fast & Furious. Then you'll know not to worry." He turned off the water and helped her from the shower.

"Okay. So I watch some of your matches and know not to worry." She grabbed the edges of the towel he was drying her with. "When are you going to tell Roman that you are dating his daughter's teacher?"


End file.
